


Blue Moon

by booboothegdfool



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bomb threat, F/M, Murderer!Vegeta, Prison, Prison Guard Goku, Prisoner!Vegeta, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booboothegdfool/pseuds/booboothegdfool
Summary: 'Vegeta was ready to see the sun for more than an hour at a time. Especially without the cold weight of chains hanging from his wrists and ankles. He was ready to hear the sound of anything other than guards talking. He was ready to feel her again.Bulma.'Or, the one where mass murderer Vegeta has decided he's had enough of being in prison and figures there's no better time than now to break out and take the woman he loves with him.[RATING CHANGED FROM 'T' TO 'M']
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	1. Step by Step

The cot creaked quietly as Vegeta shifted his weight, sitting up to put his legs over the edge. His muscles ached, groaning from the lack of support his bed provided. With a huff, he pushed himself to his feet, lifting his hands above his head to stretch himself out. Rolling out his shoulders, he bent down, feeling his back muscles pull as he touched his toes.

“Much better,” he murmured. A moment later he was on the floor, hands pressed into the cold cement as he positioned his feet out behind him. Back straight, he began his morning workout with pushups.

The day would begin like any other, he knew. But it would end much, much differently. His mind buzzed with the thoughts of his plan, carefully going over each step, down to the tiniest detail. There wasn’t much else he could do to perfect it, but that didn’t stop him from thinking it over. Just in case. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Three months behind these bars had been enough.

Vegeta was ready to see the sun for more than an hour at a time. Especially without the cold weight of chains hanging from his wrists and ankles. He was ready to hear the sound of anything other than guards talking. He was ready to feel her again.

Bulma.

“Morning, Geets!”

The cheery voice was enough to grate on his nerves and put him in a bad mood. Being in solitary confinement was irritating on its own, but having the voice of Kakarot be the first sound he heard every morning made it downright unbearable.

“Got your breakfast for ya! I had them add an extra scoop of gravy.” The guard was beaming through the glass window of Vegeta’s cell, eyes closed due to the massive size of his own smile. “They typically don’t do it, but I asked super nice and they gave in.”

More than likely, Vegeta knew, Kakarot had begged and pleaded before they finally gave in.

Vegeta watched as the tray slid through the door’s slot, appearing on his side. Every once in a while, the prisoner liked to shove it back through the hole and cover the optimistic guard in the food. Today, however, he needed his strength. Without a word, he took the tray and moved back to his cot to eat.

Undeterred by Vegeta’s silence, Kakarot continued, “I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you! Then we’ll head to the yard, sound good?”

Vegeta grunted, not bothering to look up as he continued with his meal.

Once the other man was gone, Vegeta lifted the plate from the tray, revealing the hidden key beneath. It wasn’t much, but he wouldn’t need anything else.

Though he’d spent years keeping his emotions under wraps, becoming a master at never revealing what he felt on his face, Vegeta couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto his lips.

Freedom was only a few short hours away.

______

Stretched out comfortably (as possible, anyway) on his cot, Vegeta kept his eyes closed as he waited. Time had passed slower than usual, but he knew better than to let that get to him. Everything would go well so long as he kept his wits about him.

Right on time, Vegeta heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall towards his cell. He sat up, waiting for the sound of the key entering the lock before he got to his feet.

It wasn’t Kakarot who stood before him, however. Instead it was a different guard. One named Zarbon. They’d met only once before, briefly, but the encounter had left Vegeta with a bad taste in his mouth. The taste had been his own blood, after Zarbon had pulled a cheap shot and set Vegeta sprawling with a punch to the face. None of the other guards had bat a lash at the attack. In fact, they'd simply turned on their heels and faced the other way.

But Vegeta wasn’t the type to forget. And he certainly wasn’t the type to forgive, either.

“Get over here, trash. Time to put on your collar.” Zarbon shook the chains from the other side of the door.

With a scowl on his face, Vegeta walked over, sliding his fisted hands through the slit. “Where’s that idiot Kakarot?” He growled.

Zarbon snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Mind your business, you pathetic fuck.” He locked the chains in place, ensuring they were just too tight.

Truth be told, Vegeta did know. It had been step one of his plan, in fact. A man who owed him a favor had called in a bomb threat to both the elementary school Kakarot’s youngest son went to as well as one to the high school where he eldest went. No bomb was actually present, but it would be enough to get the guard out of the prison.

If anyone could have stopped Vegeta’s escape, it was Kakarot. The man was a goddamn clown, but he was strong and quick. And he seemed to know almost exactly what Vegeta was thinking. It was irritating. There was also, just the tiniest part of him that hadn’t wanted to spill any more Saiyan blood.

Though Kakarot had been raised in the states, both men were from the island of Saiya. Their numbers had been dwindling the last hundred years -mostly from wars and other outside influences- and if Vegeta could avoid losing more of his proud race, he would do so. But he knew that if the fucking idiot managed to get in his way, Vegeta would paint the walls in Kakarot's brains and sleep soundly the same night.

The door swung open and Vegeta stepped out, fists falling to his sides as he turned to face his cell door while Zarbon placed the chains around his ankles. His lip raised in disgust. They loved to parade him around like a fucking dog. 

He knew how proud the mayor of West City was over his capture. He’d been evading capture for ten years, after all. He’d made complete fools of the police force, had even shaken the people’s faith in their so called protectors. A fact he was rather proud of, in truth. The townsfolk had rallied against the police and the mayor at one point, demanding more be done about the murders. He'd even gone to the town meeting himself.

It had taken some time, but he supposed they had finally succeeded. Now, he was a beast on a leash.

For now.

“Get moving,” Zarbon said, shoving Vegeta away from the wall and down the hall.

The prisoner did so, legs moving only so quickly against the chains. The two walked in silence, passing a few other guards as they began their ascension of the steps that would eventually lead to the grounds outside. The stairs that weren’t monitored by cameras.

Step two. The chains around his fists fell and he turned, shoving Zarbon hard into the wall. Caught off guard, the other man had no time to react as a fist collided with his face, smashing the back of his head into the concrete wall behind him. He slumped to the floor.

Vegeta wasted no time, he crouched down, using the key he’d been holding to remove the chains from his ankles. When they fell away, he grabbed them, wrapping the the cold metal around his hands. Zarbon had begun to stir but Vegeta was on him too quick. He slung the chain around the guard’s throat, using his knee to keep him pinned to the ground. “You never should have crossed me, Zarbon,” he growled, pulling the chain tighter around his throat. “You made a mistake making me your enemy. And now, I’m going to watch the light fade from your fucking eyes.”

Zarbon fought for a moment, hands gripping at Vegeta’s wrists in a desperate attempt to live. But it was no good. Vegeta had the element of surprise and that had been enough to seal Zarbon's fate. Eventually his grip loosened and his hands fell to his sides, eyes closing as he fell into darkness.

Waiting a moment longer, Vegeta finally stood, tossing the chains to his left with a grin. “Fuck you.”

Step three. Removing Zarbon’s uniform was a little more difficult seeing as the vain man wore his clothes as tight as possible, wanting to show off his toned form as much as possible. It was a plus for Vegeta though as he wasn’t quite as big as Zarbon. The too small clothes fit the prisoner well enough.

He attached the baton to his belt and took the steps two at a time. He slowed only as the next door appeared, straightening out the uniform before sliding Zarbon’s badge through the keypad and waiting for the beep to let him through.

The rest of his journey was a piece of cake. He moved efficiently through the rest of the prison, keeping to the less maintained areas. He'd studied the prison's blueprints long before he'd ever been placed behind the bars. Men like Vegeta didn't evade police custody for ten years by being stupid. No, he'd always been one step ahead. Head down, he didn’t make eye contact with anyone he passed by, keeping the guard hat pulled tight over his eyes.

With none the wiser, Vegeta left the prison through the front door.

Long strides took him through the parking lot, heading towards the street. The prison was rather secluded, meaning the street out front was rarely traveled. Not a single car passed as he crossed the street and disappeared into the forest on the other side. Vegeta jogged passed the trees, counting his steps as he went.

At 50 feet he found the massive log he’d been took to look for. Within was a change of clothes, two passports, and keys to a car.

Now for step four. Get Bulma.


	2. Flashback

_Two Years Ago_

Hand on her hip, Bulma stared into the freezer before her. She’d been in the convenience store for almost fifteen minutes now, debating on the three different types of ice cream. Her breakup with Yamcha had been a long time coming. The two of them hadn’t been happy together in almost a year and they’d finally agreed to split. No hard feelings, just an agreement that things weren’t working.

But still, she’d spent four years with him. At one point she had even thought she’d marry him. At the very least, that warranted a little a bit of mourning.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she muttered aloud. “Chocolate seems too cliche. And vanilla isn’t much better. But I don’t even like strawberry,” Bulma mused, her eyes shifting to each flavor respectively. Her foot began tapping as she continued her contemplation.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bulma spotted a man at the end of the same aisle, looking at drinks in the cooler section. He seemed about her height, though with that gravity-defying mountain of black spikes on his head, he was definitely taller. He wore an outfit of complete black. “Hey there homeboy!” She called, waving her hand to grab his attention. She’d noticed him walk in not too long after her, meaning he’d been there just as long as she had. Thankfully she wasn’t the only indecisive one it seemed.

When he glanced her way, she grinned. “Hi there! Could you help me? I’m trying to pick out an ice cream flavor, but I’m totally at a loss.”

For a long moment the man simply scowled at her, his pitch black gaze doing its best to push its way into her soul.

Bulma didn’t even blink. Her smile never faltered.

He sighed and trudged his way over, remaining silent. His steps didn’t even make noise.

“Who would’ve thought picking out ice cream would be that hard, right?” She asked, laughing when he stepped up beside her, hands buried deep into his pockets.

The man didn’t join in. Instead, he pulled the freezer door open and slipped his hand into an empty slot. Not as empty as it seemed, however, as he pulled his hand out to reveal a fourth ice cream type that Bulma hadn’t noticed.

“Here, woman,” he growled, shoving it into her hands. Without another word, he left her standing there.

She blinked once, startled by his bluntness. “Listen here, buddy,” she began, ready to give him a piece of her mind before she stopped to look at the ice cream that was now chilling her to the bone. “Blue Moon ice cream,” Bulma read. It came in a clear tub, but the startling blue treat that shined out at her was familiar.

As if on queue, a piece of her hair fell over her shoulder. It matched the color of the ice cream perfectly. She laughed softly, looking back up for the man only to find him gone. He must have left.

Well, she supposed this would just have to do.

* * *

With her ice cream paid for, Bulma left the store and started back towards home. Normally she would’ve driven, but spring was just becoming summer and the night weather was perfect for a nice walk. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her headphones. A red light blinked back up at her and she groaned. Shit, they were dead. With a sigh, she shoved them back into her jeans. Guess she’d just have to make due.

Humming to herself, Bulma didn’t notice the shadow that had started looming up behind her. It wasn’t until she heard the soft echoing of a footstep did she finally realize she wasn’t alone.

She turned, surprised to see the man from the convenience store only a few feet after her. “Oh hey, it’s you!”

Her voice seemed to startle him and he stopped short.

“I bought the ice cream you suggested,” she said, lifting the bag in her hand as if to prove her statement.

He blinked once. “That’s...good.”

Bulma grinned. “Yeah, it is. I’ve actually never had this kind before. Have you?” Before he could even think of an answer, she was speaking again. “Did you pick it because it matched my hair?” Her tone was suddenly teasing.

His cheeks went pink and he sputtered, “What? No, don’t be ridiculous! It’s a good flavor, is all.”

She laughed, waving her hand at him. “I’m just kidding!” Her laughter died down for a moment and she looked him up and down. The man was rather handsome, she noticed. A few years her senior, maybe. Well built, if the way his clothes hugged him was any indication. “Do you want to share it with me?” 

The offered startled both of them. Bulma wasn’t usually the type to just offer food to complete strangers at 9 o’clock at night. But the guy had intrigued her. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like he was going to kill her.

“Sure.”

“Great! My house is like five minutes from here.” She turned on her heel, leading the way. “By the way, I’m Bulma.” She slowed her pace until he caught up. “What’s your name?”

He looked her over once more, as if unsure what to make of her. “Uh, Vegeta.”

The rest of the walker consisted of Vegeta’s silence as Bulma rambled on and on about any subject that popped into her head.

“And that’s when I told Yamcha, I just didn’t think it was working out anymore,” she finished, pushing the door to her apartment open.

Following in after the woman, Vegeta surveyed the space. It was a rather nice apartment, considering the large living room they’d just entered. Well decorated with a theme that Vegeta could easily pick out to be space.

“This Yamcha boy,” he said, glancing back at her as she locked the door behind them, “He sounds like a complete weakling.” He slid out of his shoes, leaving them to the side.

Not waiting to be invited further in, the man strode towards the kitchen, eyes raking in the rest of her living space. Spying a stack of mail on the counter, he took a quick glance, spying only one name.

Bulma Briefs.

It seemed she lived alone. The thought made his toes curl with excitement. He was going to decorate her entire bedroom with her blood.

Turning back to her, he watched as she hummed to herself in the kitchen. She’d set the ice cream on the table while she retrieved two bowls and two spoons. “You never said whether you’ve tried this flavor before. I know I haven’t, so if you have any recommendation for toppings, let me know. I’ve probably got just about anything you can think of.” She shot him a dazzling smile as she continued what she was doing.

“It’s best by itself.”

She nodded her understanding. “Well, if you’d like, make yourself comfortable. I was going to just watch a movie or something.”

Vegeta did just that. He headed back into the living room, taking a spot on the couch where he could still see her in the kitchen. While he waited, he watched her. She was remarkably beautiful, he decided. He couldn’t decide if he liked her eyes or her hair more, despite the fact that they were almost entirely the same color.

Even the way she moved was captivating. There was a grace to her unlike anything he’d seen before. And as she brought the two bowls of ice cream in with her, he found himself eyeing her hungrily.

“Here you go.” She held out the bowl for him and he took it, their fingers brushing just slightly.

His cheeks and ears went hot. Fuck.

Laughing softly, Bulma plopped down beside him. He could feel her body heat against his arm. His fingers twitched, unsure of whether they wanted to touch her face or wrap around that slender fucking throat. “So, anything in particular you’d like to watch?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I don’t care.” She opened her mouth, eyes shining. “Except no chick flicks.”

Her mouth shut immediately, twisting into a pout. “Oh typical man.”

“Woman, I am _not_ a typical man.”

The moment the words left his mouth, their eyes locked. Blue on black, they seemed to be challenging the other to look away. Neither of them backed down.

Both ice cream bowls set aside to be forgotten, Bulma found herself pulled tightly into the man’s lap, his teeth raking against her neck.

She gasped, hands finding their way up into his hair, gripping tightly as he sank his canines into the curve of her throat. Not hard enough to break skin, but she’d definitely have a bruise come morning. She relished the thought. “Fuck, Vegeta,” she whispered, eyes fluttering.

Vegeta groaned, enjoying the salty flavor of her skin as much as the sound of his name passed her lips. Flipping them, he shoved himself between her legs as he set her on the couch. “I’m going to fuck you,” he growled, hovering above her.

His tone sent a shiver of anticipation running down Bulma’s back. She spread her legs, revealing the tiny black thong she wore under her dress. A silent acceptance of what was to come.

He groaned. When he’d spotted her entering the convenience store earlier that night, he’d intended to kill her, not fuck her. He’d never killed a woman before, but something about that throat begged him to strangle her to death. And yet, now, between her thighs, staring down at that heavy lidded blue gaze...he still wanted to wrap his hands around her throat. He just wanted his cock buried deep inside her when he did it.

Gripping her tightly, he yanked her up and over his shoulder while she giggled out directions to her room.

He may not get to paint her bedroom walls red with her blood, but a creamy white would satisfy him just as well.


End file.
